I climb into the carriage and we set off for the louvre castle to see the Duke. I look out the window and see Paris in all its truth. The starving plague victims lying in the street.The flea ridden half shaved dogs eating the flesh of the dead. The starving beggars, orphans and widows, and the plastered faces of the prostitutes. I look out at all this and thank god for my luck, that my father was rich and my husband was rich and that I was educated and, unlike most women in my situation, had writing to turn to.
Paris is a city riddled with plague and poverty, with rulers that either don't realise how bad things are, or simply don't care. I wonder if things would be the same if women were allowed to rule. I believe they would be different. I believe that there would be less wars and less poverty, and more value in kindness towards the poor. But no, that's not how things are, and there is little I can do about it, except write.
Beggars come up to the windows and they are struck down by soldiers. I want to help them, but if I did then they would all swarm me and I would probably be trampled. These are desperate times and desperate measures are called for. I wish things were different, but they're not, and I can't afford to help anyone except myself and my family. So I have to keep writing and hope that one day peace will be brought to the world and that no one will have to try and support themselves in a world where they can find no assistance or kindness.
I try to ignore this and focus on imagining what the duke has to tell me. The carriage pulls up at the Louvre castle and I step out, wondering what's in store for me.
Sometime between 1392 and 1402
I climb into the carriage and we set off for the louvre castle to see the Duke. I look out the window and see Paris in all its truth. The starving plague victims lying in the street.The flea ridden half shaved dogs eating the flesh of the dead. The starving beggars, orphans and widows, and the plastered faces of the prostitutes. I look out at all this and thank god for my luck, that my father was rich and my husband was rich and that I was educated and, unlike most women in my situation, had writing to turn to.
Paris is a city riddled with plague and poverty, with rulers that either don't realise how bad things are, or simply don't care. I wonder if things would be the same if women were allowed to rule. I believe they would be different. I believe that there would be less wars and less poverty, and more value in kindness towards the poor. But no, that's not how things are, and there is little I can do about it, except write.
Beggars come up to the windows and they are struck down by soldiers. I want to help them, but if I did then they would all swarm me and I would probably be trampled. These are desperate times and desperate measures are called for. I wish things were different, but they're not, and I can't afford to help anyone except myself and my family. So I have to keep writing and hope that one day peace will be brought to the world and that no one will have to try and support themselves in a world where they can find no assistance or kindness.
I try to ignore this and focus on imagining what the duke has to tell me. The carriage pulls up at the Louvre castle and I step out, wondering what's in store for me.